


You Call This a Celebration?

by thewightknight



Series: Reconcilable Differences [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Celebratory Sex, F/M, Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-05-15
Packaged: 2018-03-30 14:45:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3940756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewightknight/pseuds/thewightknight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was no doubt in Varric’s mind that this was a very bad idea.  He could almost see himself writing out the words in capital letters on a page.  !VERY BAD IDEA, VARRIC!  His internal author was adding extra flourishes.  The V was beautifully illuminated, even.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Call This a Celebration?

**Author's Note:**

> A little bit of fluff and not-quite-romance for Varric.

Varric kicked back on a log by his fire with a tankard of ale and watched Haven celebrate. The Herald had closed the Breach, so they damned well better, he thought. And for him, this was the best excuse to bend the elbow he'd had in months. He watched the people around him, taking mental notes. This was definitely his next tale in the making, although he had a feeling the story wasn't anywhere near over yet.

Zaryn seemed bemused by it all. Not too many weeks ago she’d woken up in shackles and now she was everyone’s hero. She weaved her way through the crowd, raising her wineskin and taking a pull whenever anyone cheered. That was her second or third skin that he knew of, but her step was still rock steady and her voice was strong and clear. He made a mental note to try to get her into a drinking contest with The Iron Bull one of these evenings. 

He lost track of her for a bit, and when her voice sounded in his ear he jumped. “Not too shabby for a party, this.” She settled herself next to him on the log, and took a long pull from her skin. It was another full one, he realized. He could smell it even over the smoke, and the fumes made his eyes start to water. No one seemed to notice her, and he realized she’d also changed into non-descript clothing, blending into the general population with ease.

“What the blazes are you drinking?”

She winked, offered him the skin. “Somethin' to curl your chest hair.”

With the skin in his hand and the fumes not seasoned with woodsmoke, he identified its contents: Hirol’s Lava Burst. He was going to regret this, he knew, but he took a long pull anyways. He couldn’t do any less, not with her sitting there next to him, an impish smile on her lips. He managed not to cough as it coated his insides with liquid fire and hoped the ruddy light of the fire would cover his flush. She laughed in delight, thumping him on the back, as he returned the skin to her. 

“I think the burn starts before it touches your lips.” His voice was only slightly huskier than normal, he was proud to hear. 

“That’s what I’m talkin' about.” She took another drink.

“Show-off,” he said, just to make her laugh again. She offered him another swallow and he waved it off, raising his tankard instead. Definitely needed to get that drinking contest going, with betting, he mused. He was going to make a fortune.

She took another swig. “Yep. Pretty good party. It only needs one thing.” She cocked an eyebrow at him expectantly.

“You obviously want me to ask what this party needs.” 

She twirled her finger, a rolling motion, her eyes twinkling in the firelight. 

“Alright, oh great and mighty Herald of Andraste, exactly what does this party need?”

She leaned in towards him, tickling his ear with her breath. “Sex,” she whispered, her voice suddenly husky. The warmth from that swallow of liquor hadn’t dissipated yet, and the rest of him flushed along with it as she placed her hand high on his thigh, the caress of her fingers stopping just short of his crotch.

With regret, he moved her hand off. “That’s not a good idea. I’m horrible at relationships.” She laughed again, a throaty chuckle in his ear that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end and other, lower things twitch as well.

“Who said anythin' about a relationship, Varric? All I’m talkin' about is a good … hard … fuck.” She punctuated each of those last words with nips at his neck while her fingers wandered all the way up his thigh, tracing the outline of his rapidly hardening shaft through the fabric of his pants. “Or two … or maybe even three.” His attempt at a protest was lost in a groan as she bit down hard, right at the join of neck and shoulder, and he surged beneath her hand.

“This part of you seems to like the idea. Does the rest of you wanna follow me in there?” She cocked her head at his tent. 

There was no doubt in Varric’s mind that this was a very bad idea. He could almost see himself writing out the words in capital letters on a page. !VERY BAD IDEA, VARRIC! His internal author was adding extra flourishes. The Vs were beautifully illuminated, even.

That didn’t stop him from standing and walking over to the tent, pulling back the flap with a sweep and a bow. She smirked and rose and as she passed him, her fingers hooked into the sash at his waist, pulling him in and down on top of her on his cot, and without spilling a single drop from the skin, he noted. That was the last coherent thought his brain produced for the rest of the evening.

**Author's Note:**

> Two fics posted in one day! Go me! 
> 
> I'm not ignoring the other series, I promise. It's just going slow, and it feels good to finish and post SOMETHING at least.
> 
> Also, we're just going to pretend that Corypheus doesn't attack until the next evening, m'kay?
> 
> [Here's Zaryn](http://thewightknight.tumblr.com/post/130996764738/cute-little-carta-fixer-when-she-stops-smiling), if you want a face to go with the fic.
> 
> Feel free to come say hi over on [tumblr](http://thewightknight.tumblr.com/).


End file.
